


Law of the Jungle

by WahlBuilder



Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors
Genre: Dirty Little Secrets, First Kiss, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Meeting, Regicide, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 15:58:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7321519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WahlBuilder/pseuds/WahlBuilder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Intrigued by the ‘find’ that his Father has brought from Baal, Horus tries to get closer with the Angel. But it seems the Angel doesn’t want that. Or does he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Law of the Jungle

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Закон джунглей](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4179477) by [CatiZza](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatiZza/pseuds/CatiZza). 



The world where Horus had come out of his capsule and spent the first few years of his life wasn’t that different from woods where some of his brothers had grown up. Long time ago, in one of the books he had found in his Father’s extensive library, he had read that tightly built-up city streets were called ‘concrete jungle’—and that may have been the best way to describe Chtonian slums. Perhaps those above who called themselves the government had written laws under which Chtonia existed as administrative unit. In reality, those laws were in force only in the confines of the archives where the paper on which they had been written had been kept. The further you went into the slums, the less laws you could find and the more different they would turn from those that existed on paper.

Horus couldn’t say that he had spent in those slums too many a year, enough so that the Chtonian laws had been etched into his mind, but some of them were too useful on the field of battle to get rid of them entirely.

The first and basic law that Horus had mastered was ‘show no fear’. Demonstration of your weakness is a confession that the one in front of you is more powerful than you are. Those who confessed in their weakness had lost the right for mercy.

In Chtonian slums world was divided into black and white, the strong and the weak. Studying on Terra, Horus had had his world gain more shades; strength and weakness had turned into thousands of tints, and the spectrum between fear and courage stretched into thousands of different feelings. Some of them Horus still deemed a weakness, others he found amusing.

Watching fear manifest in the one equal to him was amusing, and the more Horus watched, the more he was being consumed by curiousity. The Chtonian boy who was hidden under all knick-knackery he had acquired during his life on Terra and who remembered the slums all too well, had been perplexed, wondering what the one who had everything could possibly be scared of.

Sanguinius had everything, and more. Nice looks, tremendous power both physical and spiritual, and two no less tremendous snow-white wings that he would open wide so beautifully when he stretched, and would tuck close to himself amusingly when he was nervous.

And yet, he was afraid.

At first Horus had written it off on adaptation; his brother had lived on desert Baal for too long and was used to severe environment and the ever-present need, and he had been no doubt shocked when he had arrived to Terra. He had gotten used to it quick enough, though; people get used to good things fast. Sanguinius had adapted to living on the planet, accustomed himself to the role of the father to his Legion, won his brothers’ favour—but still he felt out of place. Self-consciousness in a half-god looked so amusing that it unwittingly aroused a hunting instinct in Horus. The more painstaking the Angel was at keeping the distance, the more forceful Horus was in advancing on him.

It was ironic that his brother didn’t avoid him. Quite the contrary, he was glad to see Horus and could always find time for talks, he didn’t turn down suggestions of games of regicide, having learned the rules quickly; he was eager to accept a challenge in sparring—but when Horus would try to get closer, Sanguinius would step back. Whether his teasing was conscious or unconcsious, but the further he drew back, the more it wounded Horus. He was used to being a half-god, beloved son of his Father, the first among those who had been already found; he was used to deference and willingness to serve, he was used to getting whatever he wanted—and the inability to get the longed-for prey was tormenting, and working him up.

Perhaps he should have caught the rebellous bird by the wings and explain to him who was the master in simple Chtonian terms, but he didn’t want to hurt the bird. Breaking and forcing someone to submit was easy, but Horus wanted more than obedience. He didn’t want to catch the bird, he wanted the bird to fly to his palm and take the offered treat willingly.

The bird, though, was in no hurry to fly to him, but Horus didn’t mind.

It was more interesting this way.

The strange feeling that was turning the desire to own into desire to protect, turning passion into tenderness and heat of the hunt into the need to be heard, heightened all other feelings, too. Horus had become aware of the things he never paid attention to before, being used to general adoration. And yet… and yet the Angel smiled to him the way he didn’t smile to anyone else, looked at him the way he didn’t look at anyone else, and wasn’t always fast enough to turn away in time to hide that he was watching Horus.

And that was confusing.

Something was keeping Sanguinius from making a step toward Horus.

Maybe his wings were the reason. The thing everyone thought of as beautiful, Sanguinius deemed a hideous deformity, and attention paid to his wings made him shudder. It was understandable, since, as their Father told them, the Imperium had been built by humans and for humans, and abnormalities were unwelcome and even persecuted. Wings, belonging to a son of the one who fought xenos, were like a mockery. And the more serene the Emperor was about them, the more uneasy Sanguinius felt.

Self-conscious and diffident, he differed so dramatically from all other Horus’s brothers, and Horus sometimes catched himself at thinking that he wanted to… dirty Sanguinius. Wanted to bring the one who was soaring high above on snow-white wings down to earth.

It seemed that this unearthly creature could not allow himself to love. He was too unearthly. And it made him a desired prey.

Sanguinius avoided talks about any of it so elegantly that Horus had started to envy the ease. Sanguinius avoided being touched with the same elegance, and when Horus tried to use direct approach, asking his brother to bring him a book, and _accidentally_ happened to stand in the doorway, Sanguinius just ran away through the window. Just like that, a beat of wings, a leap up on the windowsill—and lo!—he was gone. Horus went to the window, admiring his brother’s flight and worrying his lips, angry at his own tactical mistake.

Why are you so afraid of me, Angel?

 

‘Your move, brother,’ said Sanguinius quietly after moving his ecclesiarch, and flexed his aching wings, getting comfortable on his chair. Rustling of the long flight feathers against the floor put Horus’s thoughts out.

‘Stop it,’ Horus said automatically, looking at the board. His brother’s move had messed with Horus’s brilliant combination, and the required adjustments to it were too uninviting.

‘Stop what?’Sanguinius asked carefully, tucking his wings closer to himself.

‘Rustling. It’s distracting.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Sanguinius breathed out guiltily and raised his wings, opening them and trying to stretch but not knock anything off at the same time. Horus looked up, watching his brother stretch. Sanguinius quickly tucked his wings close to his back again.

‘Why are you so ashamed of them?’ Horus asked. ‘They are so beautiful…’

Sanguinius’s cheeks turned pink, and he averted his eyes.

‘Your move, brother,’ he repeated.

Horus frowned, looking at the board again, and moved his tetrarch at last. Sanguinius rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his finger brushing his lower lip. Horus watched the movement of the digit, and his thoughts were very far away from the board. As if sensing his gaze, Sanguinius looked up at him for a moment and took his hand away from his face. The situation on the board were not in the Angel’s favour despite that the game had turned out to be difficult for both players, and it seemed that Sanguinius didn’t want to lose. While being yelding in everyday life, Sanguinius was a surprisingly severe commander and a staunch warrior even when it was a matter of a simple game. Horus saw that any of his brother’s moves would lead to his defeat, but he was waiting patiently as Sanguinius was trying to find a way out of the tough situation.

‘Checkmate,’ Sanguinius announced suddenly and moved his primarch.

Horus froze, unable to believe his ears. He looked, perplexed, at the board then at his shyly smiling brother, and at the board again, and couldn’t understand a thing. He watched the board closely, trying to find where he had made a mistake, and finally understood that he hadn’t had a chance, indeed. At the first glance, everything had been moving according to his plan, but his every posible move had opened way to Sanguinius’s pieces and put Horus’s emperor under threat. Indeed, any move of Sanguinius’s had made his own emperor vulnerable, but it would have taken two moves to threaten him…

‘I’m sorry,’ Sanguinius murmured.

‘Do you say that to all your enemies?’ teased Horus, leaning back on his chair.

‘If there are any to talk to,’ the Angel shrugged, his wings moving amusingly. ‘But there haven’t been any before now.’

They exchanged looks with Horus and burst out laughing together. Then Horus got up to his feet and walked to a small table to pour some wine into their goblets.

‘Another game?’ Sanguinius asked without turning to him, and startled when his hair was stroked.

‘I don’t think so,’ said Horus, smoothing his brother’s golded tresses. ‘You look tired, brother. Has the game exhausted you?’

‘Not at all.’ Sanguinius leaned forward, trying to avoid the stroking hands. ‘Stop this, please.’

‘Does it feel unpleasant?’

‘Just… you shouldn’t be doing it.’ Sanguinius shook his head. He got up and turned to his brother. ‘I thought you called me for a game.’

‘Yes,’ Horus nodded, not ashamed at all, ‘but I have been proven yet again that you dislike me.’

He watched with amusement as the Angel frowned and turned away. A sudden change of topic had confused him, breaching for a moment the weak armour of superficial detachment, and observing as disoriented Sanguinius was trying to find his words was interesting.

‘It is not so,’ Sanguinius said quietly at last, worrying his lips. ‘Excuse me.’ He carefully moved past Horus, trying to not upset the table, but Horus caught his hand with ease and turned Sanguinius to face him.

‘If you like me,’ Horus drawled, watching expressions shift on Sanguinius’s face, ‘then what is the problem?’

An intricate spectrum of emotions played on Sanguinius’s face, but it was difficult to read them. It was that he was either trying to stop himself from punching his brother, or contemplating the reasons that could stop him from leaning to Horus…

‘Let me go,’ Sanguinius asked quietly.

‘So you could bolt out of the window again?’ Horus said, mocking.

Sanguinius opened his wings clumsily, as if he were trying to push his brother away, but Horus, holding him tight by his arm, catched him by the flight feathers, too.

The bird had fallen into his hands, and he had no intention of letting him go. If he let the bird fly away now, the bird would never allow him to get close again.

‘Are all Baalites this shy?’ Horus asked, pulling his brother closer. The wing he was holding onto tensed and fluttered.

One who shows fear admits one’s weakness. Admits, without putting up a fight, the victory of the one who stands before him.

And those who are defeated, are not to be wasted words on.

Horus didn’t waste any words, he yanked his brother to himself and, as Sanguinius tried to keep steady on his feet and flapped his wings, knocking the board, Horus grabbed him with both arms. Balling his fist in the fair tresses, he pressed his mouth to frightened, parted lips in a demanding and dominant kiss. Half-opening his eyes, Horus drank in the horror in wide blue eyes of his brother, nipped at his lip then brushed it with his tongue.

That’s it, birdie. Welcome to our earth. Now you are one of us.

Sanguinius didn’t struggle; his hands were on Horus’s chest and they crumpled his shirt in an attempt to either push him away or pull him closer. Horus pressed Sanguinius tighter to himself, felt him shudder when their tongues met, but he didn’t have a chance to savour his taste because he felt blood. His tongue stung, and Horus moved away, trying to understand what had happened.

What was it that—

Taking advantage of the pause, Sanguinius made an attempt to free himself out of the embrace, but Horus clasped him tighter in his arms. His brother ceased his struggles and, frowning, turned his face away, as if accepting his fate.

Horus carefully hooked a finger under Sanguinius’s chin, tilted his head up, and thumbed his lower lip down—and jerked his hand away when his brother bared his teeth, showing fangs.

‘Did you want to see this?’Anger that filled Sanguinius’s voice turned his mellow timbre almost into a hiss.

Horus frowned. Straight teeth and pointed canines were visible when his brother smiled or talked, but they hadn’t seemd… that sharp. And to tell the truth, they had looked shorter.

‘Happy now?’ Now anger in Sanguinius’s voice gave way to pain, and hissing turned into a whisper.

‘Sanguinius…’ Horus reached out to tuck a golden lock behind his brother’s ear, but Sanguinius shook his head.

‘Don’t pity me,’ he snapped. ‘Yes, I’m more of a freak than you have thought. And yes,’ he added, turning away, ‘your expression is exactly what I expected.’

‘A freak?’ Horus echoed, frowning. ‘You… Wait, is that because of this that you…’

‘That’s not the only reason,’ Sanguinius smiled bitterly, freeing himself from his embrace. ‘But I have enough defects to take things as they are.’

‘Wait, wait…’ Horus caught him again and shook.

The bird didn’t want to fly down on his palm because the bird deemed himself… unworthy of the offered treat?

Horus thought he could feel the world falling apart at the seams.

‘Wait, are you telling me that all this time you didn’t allow yourself anything because…’

‘Because I’m a freak,’ Sanguinius finished.

‘You are an idiot, not a freak,’ Horus murmured with conviction, and pulled Sanguinius to himself. The wings flapped, clumsy, then were tucked in close to his back again.

‘I assumed you would reject me,’ Sanguinius said quietly, embracing him in reply.

‘You are not a freak,’ Horus repeated as his brother relaxed in his arms. ‘You are an angel. But it doesn’t prevent you from being stupid,’ he added after a moment.

Sanguinius huffed to his shoulder. Horus ran his fingers through ruffled fair locks and, tilting his head, kissed him again, gentle and careful this time, but the Angel returned the kiss with much eagerness than before. Broad white wings cocooned them both, as if hiding them from the whole world, and everything became warm and quiet.  
‘I’m sorry,’ Horus whispered into his brother’s ear, mouth straying from his lips. ‘I should have realised it sooner. I just didn’t think it was… that bad.’

‘I don’t blame you.’

‘You are a real angel,’ Horus laughed, tightening his embrace. ‘Let’s drink some wine and then have another game.’

Sanguinius nodded and disengaged himself from him.


End file.
